Criminals of War
by theoneshotter
Summary: Non-yaoi. After their boss kills himself, Ludwig and Gilbert run for safety. Watching the Allied Forces deal with his big brother, Ludwig realizes just how big of a mess they have unknowingly created. WARNINGS: Fanciful interpretation of history, inability to write Germany correctly, and anti-Allied Forces-ness. I DON'T OWN HETALIA!


**A/N: Not sure where this came from. I just have a strange fascination with these two. Yes, I snuck some BFT in there. Forgive me. R & R! Flames will be handed over to Russia. I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

As soon as the shot rang out, we started running, not even pausing for the human police. They couldn't bother us. Gilbert brought me to an ancient church, pushed me behind the altar. My head was still ringing from the shot of the pistol. Smoke still burned my lungs. He grabbed my hands, the worn leather of his gloves soft against my skin.

"Ludwig." He began, his voice echoing dimly off the stone walls, bare from looting. I tensed automatically, waiting for footsteps to come barreling towards our poorly concealed hiding place. "Ludwig, listen."

"_Ja_. I'm listening." My voice was stiff, and I forced myself to look into Gilbert's burning eyes.

"If you're talking, you're not listening," the same phrase that had been repeated countless times over the course of my childhood. When he taught me to ride a horse, to read, to fight. My brother was my teacher, my guardian. He raised me as Old Fritz had raised him. Shape the mind, train the body, and make strong the courage.

"Now," he continued, "when the Allies come, let them take you."

"But–"

"Hush!" He hissed. "It will be easier. Do not run away. Do not fight them. The more you struggle, the worse it will be for you. Do you understand?" While his voice remained steady and commanding, his eyes pleaded with me.

"Gilbert, where will you be?" His eyes darkened, nearly black against his pale skin.

"I will be with you, always." He pulled me against him in a rare embrace. My face reddened. I was raised and trained as a warrior. Warriors didn't cuddle. Why was Gilbert being so tender now?

"HEY! Dudes, over there!"

"He's right, something's moving over there. A young couple caught in the throws of _l'amour_?"

"Shut it, frog."

"Could be an animal, _aru_."

"Let's go check it out, then let's get outta here. This place gives me the creeps."

Gilbert froze. He quickly pulled his arms back.

"Lud, get under here, _und um Himmel willen, _be quiet!" The words were almost silent, my brother's whisper carefully refined over the centuries.

"Did you hear that, _aru_?"

No human should have been able to hear my brother's near-silent command. My heart began to beat faster, louder than thunder in my chest. I knew exactly to whom the voices belonged.

Gilbert lifted the white silk covering the stone altar. It was so old that pieces crumbled into dust at the touch. He gestured franticly for me to get under. I saw that beneath the altar, where the shelves should have been, there was a space just big enough for me to squeeze into. I crawled in, and he leaned forward slightly to brush cold lips against my forehead. Then the sheer silk slipped between us, and he stood.

I bit my lip to keep from calling out to him. Where was he going? With a sinking heart, I kept still in the place that could hold only one, and watched his scuffed boots walk across the church and out of sight.

"_Hallo_! Looking for someone?" In my mind's eye, I saw his jaunty grin.

"YOU! In the name of Democracy, put your hands up! You have the right to remain silent!" The American accented voice was louder than life, filling the small chapel with its annoying authority.

"I hope you burn in hell for what you have done." The British voice, though not as loud as the American's, was harsh and cruel.

"You think you can get away with all of this, _aru_?" China cut in with an ancient coldness.

"_Mon ami_, how could you?" The French accent was choked with tears. Once upon a time, my brother and France had fought alongside one another. The days of the Bad Friends Trio were long lost to the world wars, however.

There was just one voice missing. The freezing, almost purple aura that spread like smoke through the church let me know that he was here, he was just keeping silent.

"I'm sorry, Francis." True remorse colored my brother's words. France did not seem to hear it.

"What's done is done. I'm disgusted, Gilbert. So is Antonio." So Spain had finally chosen a side. Looked like the unstoppable trio was finally abolished.

There were quick footsteps, and a gun clicked.

"Woah, America! Let go!" My brother cried, voice muffled.

"No. Too bad I can't kill you with this, _Nazi_." America hissed.

"Please let me say a few words." Something in Gilbert's voice struck a cord within England.

"Let the man speak." He said, albeit reluctantly.

"Fine. Just know that what ever you say can and _will _be used against you."

"_Danke_. You have quite the grip."

"Get on with it." The American growled.

"Well, I'd just like to say that I was not the sole cause of this war." There were grunts of disbelief.

"Sure about that? From what I've heard, you goaded Hitler into doing everything he did." There was the sound of someone spitting. "What ever you say, you'll still be a Nazi in my book."

"I understand why you feel that way, America. Just listen. You know how you feel it when one of your people dies? Maybe you don't know why, but you just get sad. It hurts." Gilbert paused.

I swallowed thickly. Everyone in the room should have known exactly what he meant.

"Well imagine that, with thousands dying every day. _And there's nothing you can do about it._ So many were killed, that it turned from being mental, to physical. I have bruises on my chest.

"Ask yourselves, who would want to bring that kind of pain on themselves? Until about five hours ago, when my boss shot himself, I had no idea what was going on. Each and every one of you knows what I'm talking about."

"Yes, we do. But that is no excuse, _aru_."

"I'm not trying to excuse myself. I did a lot of horrible things. What I'm trying to say is that I had no idea what I was doing. I felt pain, I heard people screaming in my head. I just didn't know what it was. I just did what my boss told me, because I was his country." He sighed, "I'm ready to receive your punishment."

I, too, had heard the screaming. My lungs burned as gas swept through them, flames burned me every night when I tried to sleep. I didn't know the cause, and I was too self-conscious to tell my brother. I closed my eyes and ran a hand over the bruises on my arm subconsciously. I prayed to who ever was out there to protect him.

"I'm glad you are being cooperative. On your knees." A thud made the floor vibrate.

"_Amérique, _not so violent." France's voice was soft.

"Shut up frog!"

"Quiet Frenchie!" American and British accents blended into one as they shot France's pleas down.

"Love you too, Fran." Gilbert muttered.

"So _Nazi, _we have a special request. As much as I would love to torture you for all eternity, Ivan here has asked for you."

Ivan.

_Russia._

The failure of Operation Barbosa was still fresh in my mind. Russia was strong. Russia was ruthless.

Russia was insane.

"_Privet, _comrade." The cheerful greeting was grotesquely out of place. "You're coming with me, _da_? I think you will have fun in my place. This time you will not be trying to take over" a childish giggle "so it will be more enjoyable for both of us! Night-night now!"

A sickening _crack _echoed off the stone. It could only have been the maniac's pipe hitting Gilbert over the head. Handcuffs chinked into place, and the Allied Forces took my brother into custody, charged with every war crime in the book. Every single crime that Hitler's men had committed now lay over his head. The only punishment suitable was Russia.

They passed the altar on the way out, and I shrank back as far as I could. Russia carried Gilbert, whose head dangled limply, hair snow white and face paler than Russia's scarf.

I took a risk, something that I was never comfortable doing.

"_Auf Wiedersehen, Brüder_." The murmured words had scarcely left my lips when France, bringing up the rear, turned. Tears were streaming down his face, making tracks in the grime coating it. He raised a gloved hand in greeting, and nodded solemnly.

I shut my eyes tight, waiting for the rest of them to come swooping down on me like vultures onto a kill. There was only silence, apart from their fading footfalls. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, and the church was plunged into darkness.

It was only a matter of time before they came for me.

* * *

**Translations:  
_Ja_ (German)- "Yes."  
_L'amour_ (French)- I think we all know what this means  
_Aru_ (Chinese?)- I have no idea what this means. Japanese stereotype for the way Chinese people speak  
_Und um Himmel willen_ (German)- "And for the love of God"  
_Hallo_ (German)- "Hello"  
_Mon ami_ (French)- "My friend"  
_Danke_ (German)- "Thank you"  
_Amérique_ (French) - "America"  
_Privet_ (Russian)- "Hello"  
_Da_ (Russian)- "Yes"  
_Auf Wiedersehen_ (German)- "Good bye"  
_Brüder _(German)- "Brother"**


End file.
